


In Veritate

by Azar



Series: Ad Aeternum [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/pseuds/Azar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruth Mulder meets the new man in her mother-in-law's life...and figures out there's more to him than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ruth

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Marianne Edison, for the idea of the exhibit and Doggett's role in restoring Skinner's reputation, even before the idea was made semi-official in "Existence." You might say she's the 'real' Terry Cho. ;-) And to my beta-reader, Mischa, for being awesome and supportive and honest!
> 
> Title is Latin for "In Truth."

"Lay off, Denslow, you're gonna make us late." I tried to put a note of warning into my voice, but it wasn't easy when my husband was using the lips he'd inherited from both parents to do all sorts of interesting things to my throat and thus my hormones.

With one last feathery kiss, he pulled away and looked at me with twinkling eyes. "And why shouldn't we be late? I can think of any number of things I'd rather do that attend a boring old museum exhibit."

I smacked him on the arm. "Because that 'boring old museum exhibit' is dedicated to my father, you dope. And you've known that as long as I have, so don't even try to play ignorant."

"I can think of a better tribute to give him..." William whispered, his breath moving perilously close to my neck again. "How about another grandchild?"

"William Walter Mulder, if you make us late for this tribute to *my* father and *your* namesake..." I twisted out of his arms and made a valiant effort at imitating his mother's best glare. "I'll..."

He grinned. "You'll what?"

"I'll sic your mother on you, that's what."

His mood changed instantly and he began straightening his tie. Ha! It worked every time. I'd learned very early on in my life that the best way to control a Mulder man is with a Scully woman. Be it Will's Grandma Maggie or his mother, both of them had always been able to make my husband and his father shake in their shoes.

"Good. Now get your jacket and let's go."

I turned away, but was stopped one last time by his hand on my arm. I glanced back, a little irritated, and he smiled at me. "I just wanted to remember to tell you, Ruthie...you look beautiful."

Did I mention that Skinner women have a weakness for Mulder men?

In spite of the temptation, Will and I managed to make it out of the house and down the driveway to where the limo was waiting. Since I hate the drive into DC, usually I use the Metro to commute, but today was different. Today I was the honored guest at a banquet and opening of an exhibit at the Smithsonian in honor of my late father and the other FBI Directors "of the first century of the Bureau."

Of course, the first century of the Bureau wasn't over yet, but I couldn't complain about the honor. Daddy deserved it. He'd hung on to his integrity against the odds, and almost lost the Director's chair for it. But in the end it had been acknowledged and rewarded, largely due to the actions of an old friend of my mother's, my "Uncle John," Special Agent Doggett. His internal investigation into the professional misconduct of Deputy Director Alvin Kersh had restored Dad's reputation and revealed the X-Files department as the asset to the Bureau it truly was, instead of the laughingstock it had always been considered.

It was too bad that the FBI had let the department close after Uncle John quit, Mom and Dad married, and Will's family went on the run to protect his mother's secret. Though I wouldn't trade the years of helping guard that secret for anything. Being one of the only people outside the Mulder family who knew--besides Mom, Dad, Byers, Frohike, Langly and my brothers--was what had drawn Will and I so close together our whole lives. And I couldn't imagine not being married to the man beside me.

The memories were still scrolling through my mind when we pulled up before the museum and Will touched my arm lightly. "Ruth...we're here."

That snapped my attention at once back to the present. I climbed out of the vehicle after him, pausing only to smile at the valet still holding the door. "Where are your mom and Luke meeting us?"

Will sighed and my hand tightened around his arm in sympathy. Ever since a man calling himself Luke Doggett had appeared at his father's funeral and formed an instant bond with his mother, he had struggled to untangle his feelings about the situation. The suspicious nature he had inherited from his father hadn't helped, and to tell the truth, neither had I.

I'd never actually met the man, but Denslow told me he claimed to the son of the man I'd called "Uncle John" my whole life, even though I never saw more of him than a letter after my fifth birthday. I didn't remember much about him but Mom did tell me how they met. They'd worked together to solve the kidnapping--and later the murder--of his son, Luke.

So unless Luke Doggett had somehow inherited my mother-in-law's inability to die, this man couldn't possibly be who he claimed. And even I doubted that extreme possibility--any boy resurrected on the same terms as Mom Mulder would still be seven years old, the age he was when he died. Not, as Will described him, a few years older than my husband.

"There they are." He pointed up the red carpet that had been set up outside the doors of the museum, to where his mother and a tall, slender man with dust-brown hair looked anywhere but at the omnipresent cameras. Mom Mulder was wearing a classic green velvet gown, in a simple cut that never seemed to go out of style, with her rich red-gold hair heaped elegantly on top of her head.

Okay, I admit it. As much as I have always loved my mother-in-law, sometimes I envied her classic beauty and eternal youth. No matter how often William called me beautiful, I sometimes still saw a very plain face in the mirror. My mother's dark hair with unruly curls that my father always claimed he'd had once (back when he had hair), thin lips and a nose that could only be described as a failed attempt to blend Mom's proboscis with Dad's...

We had almost reached them when the man beside her turned in our direction. I stopped short.

Good God!

"Ruth?" my husband's eyes searched mine, dark with worry. "What's wrong?"

If that man was not John Doggett's son, he was his clone or some other possibility equally as extreme. For he was the mirror image of the man I'd last seen on my fifth birthday.


	2. John

I'd say I've gotten used to the cameras, but I'd be lying. I've come to accept that they'll always be there. That at any given moment my image is being recorded by a dozen or so different devices and sooner or later this is gonna make my little secret damned hard to keep. But I don't think I'll ever get used to it. And even as bad as things are today, I usually avoid functions that are quite this media-intensive. But I couldn't avoid this one. Even if I hadn't found Dana again, I still would've come. For the sake of the one man being honored here tonight that I'd been privileged to know.

I admit, Walter Skinner didn't make the best first impression on me when we met forty years ago. I knew him by reputation--you don't get too far in the Bureau without learning a thing or two about the higher ups--but what I was seeing didn't seem to match that reputation. The man who blurted out to me a wild story about spaceships and lights in the sky and watching a man disappear in front of his eyes didn't exactly strike me as the hard-assed, level-headed, no-nonsense AD I'd been told about.

But I also knew a thing or two about first impressions, and how inaccurate they can be. I'd made a few bad first impressions myself, most notably on the woman standing beside me now. Thank God for her incredible capacity to forgive.

I almost let go of Dana's hand when I saw William and his wife coming towards us, but her grip never loosened. I knew he was no happier with my presence in his mother's life than his father had been, though for a different reason. I knew he didn't understand how or why we'd latched onto each other so quickly. He probably thought I was taking advantage of her grief to worm my way into her life. Hell, he was Mulder's son. Even if he hadn't figured out the truth, he probably suspected it, but Dana'd never told him because I'd never asked her to.

They spotted us about a second after we first saw them, and William's wife stopped suddenly. A look of shock crossed her face.

"Damn," Dana muttered.

"Am I missing something?" I asked.

She sighed. "John...did you ever see Monica after she and Skinner married?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I visited 'em occasionally until their youngest was about one. Why?"

"Because I think Ruth just recognized you."

Ruth? It took a few seconds for the wires to connect, but when they did I had to bite my tongue not to gasp. I could see the resemblance to Monica now that I knew, but little Ruthie Skinner had definitely grown up!

God, who would have ever thought Monica's daughter would end up marrying Dana's son?

When they reached us, Dana formally introduced me, using the name I'd given her to use way back at the funeral. Part of me almost blurted out the truth, but frankly I was too chickenshit.

So, instead I lied through my grinning teeth. "Dad told me about you, but I was expectin' someone a little shorter."

"I used to be," Ruth laughed, and suddenly I could hear the little girl I remembered in her voice. "But I passed Katherine up at thirteen."

"How's your Mom?" I asked. I'd made the decision years ago not to tell her about what had happened to me. Instead, I'd just slowly drifted out of her life. But Monica had once been one of my closest friends and now, looking at her daughter, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd made the wrong choice.

"She's in hospice care. They thought they'd gotten the cancer into remission but it came back with a vengeance. Even today's treatments couldn't turn her around again."

Oh God. My gut deflated like it had been punched and suddenly it was impossible to breathe. Monica was dying? Monica Ruth Reyes Skinner, one of the most full-of-life people I'd ever known...dying of cancer.

Was it any wonder that disease had become a metaphor for anything insidious and invasive that corrupts everything it touches? Once it had threatened Dana's life, and even though it was in remission by the time I came into her life, before we knew the truth I'm sure we all feared it would one day return to claim her. Now it was stealing Monica from us instead. Life was so damned unfair.

Dana's hand tightened on mine, her voice apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you didn't know."

Well, maybe all the people who deserved to live forever didn't get that chance, but at least one of them had. I echoed her grip and forced myself to speak.

"I'd like to see her sometime...if I could." I'd let too many people in my life go without ever trusting them with this secret. If there was any chance I could still fix that with Monica, I had to try.

Ruth nodded, sharp eyes just like her mother's seeming to read what I wasn't saying. "I think she'd like to meet you."

I also had to find the courage to let Dana tell them the truth.

I hadn't been to the Smithsonian since I left DC thirty-eight years ago, but though many of the exhibits had changed, one thing was the same. The Star-Spangled Banner still hung under glass in the entryway. I could still remember the awe I felt the first time I saw it, way back when I was a kid. But it was only a memory. There was a time when that flag and the nation it stood for were my God, but two years on the X-Files had shaken that faith and the slow realization that I might outlive everything the flag stands for had crushed it. I still loved my country, but I didn't put my hope in it anymore. I guess I needed something to believe in more permanent than myself. I just hadn't found it yet. Damn immortality.

As if reading my thoughts, Dana squeezed my hand and I retracted that last bitter thought. Thank God for this mixed gift--without it, I would never have had this moment. My last sight of her would have been the day I walked away from the X-Files. And I would've died knowing I would never be more to her than the man who took Mulder's job.

I felt Ruth's eyes on us again, and I smiled weakly at her. Somehow, I'd find a way to tell her and William the truth. I had to. For Dana and Mulder and Monica and Skinner's sakes...if nothing else.


	3. Ruth

Reaching Dad's part of the exhibit managed to pull my mind away from Mom Mulder and her mystery man for a while. My parents and I were always close, and I missed Dad like hell sometimes. I missed Mom too, as she slipped further and further away from us. Even though part of her had been missing ever since he died.

The picture I was looking at right now was always one of her favorites. It was a candid shot, snapped by a reporter on a case that had almost gone freakishly wrong thanks to the bumbling intervention of the Gunmen. He'd remained stern and irritated in their presence, but this photographer had caught him just after the three men and their new apprentice left, as the amused grin he'd been repressing slipped for a moment onto his face. He'd still been an AD at that time, still balanced precariously between the need to be honest with himself and those around him about his loyalties and the need to remain in a position to protect the subordinates he'd come to love like family.

 _God, Dad, I miss you..._ I thought, wistfully touching the glass that separated me from that photograph.

Sometimes I would give anything to have what William has, a beloved parent who will never die. But not even for the reward of eternal youth would I trade places with Dana--knowing that she will outlive us all, even her son. Even her grandchildren. The mother in me balks at the very thought. Although I have to admit, sometimes I would give anything to have been around to see the look on Deputy Director Kersh's face when Uncle John told him he was under investigation.

I wish I'd known John Doggett better, but I understand why he left. Mom explained it to me long before most people would've thought I was old enough to understand. I knew that he was in love with William's mother, but too much of a gentleman ever to say anything when he knew she loved someone else. I don't know if Dana ever knew this, but Mom and Uncle John had known each other for a long time. That, paired with her "instincts" as he insisted on calling her empathic ability, gave her a pretty damned clear view into his soul. She often said that was one of the reasons she and Uncle John could never have fallen in love with each other. They knew each other too well, and one of the things she knew was that he could never look at her without seeing the face of his dead son.

That thought brought me back to the present. Who was this "Luke Doggett" that Mom Mulder was so attached to? Surely Dana knew that Luke had died--she and Uncle John were partners for almost a year, and even after she left the X-Files to work at Quantico while Dad Mulder stayed home with Will, she consulted on several of Mom and Uncle John's cases. I find it hard to believe that in all that time he wouldn't have told her.

But if he did tell her, how could she not be at least a little suspicious of this stranger who is so much the spitting image of her second partner that he could be a clone?

"So what do you think?" a voice asked behind me. When I turned, Terry Cho was smiling at me from where he was slouched against a glass case containing the suit Dad wore when he was sworn in as Director.

"Dare I say it's perfect, or will that inflate your ego too much?" I teased back.

Terry laughed. We'd spoken several times since he was put in charge of pulling this exhibit together, and it was he who'd persuaded me to give up that very suit. "Perfect! Does that mean I have a chance of winning your heart away from that big lug you're married to after all?"

I just snorted, and he laughed again.

"Thank you, Terry," I told him, serious now. "Thank you so much for digging to get the real story. So many people think Dad just 'came to his senses' after the Mulders gave up the X-Files."

"That's my job, to tell the real story. That's what this place stands for." He gestured around him in a sweeping movement that was meant to encompass the entire Smithsonian Institution. I could have contradicted him, could have easily shattered his faith in anything connected to our national government, but I didn't. Hell, they'd allowed this exhibit to stand as-is, maybe he was right. And the Smithsonian wasn't technically affiliated with the government, even if it was a national institution.

"It still means a lot to us. All of us. Even if Mom and Jack and Danny couldn't make it."

"Well, that's what your brothers get for moving out West," he tried to lighten the heavy thought of why Mom couldn't be here. "And speaking of your family...who's the new guy on your sister-in-law's arm? The one who looks an awful lot like the picture of Special Agent John Doggett I've got on the other side of that wall?"

I sighed, my eyes turning almost instinctively towards the wall he'd named, as if I could see through it to the photograph.

"I wish I knew."

Up until the point when Will and I started dating, Dad used to joke that Mulder must've wandered into the wrong house one night nine months before I was born, since I seemed to have his insatiable curiosity about the paranormal. But the truth was growing up with an empathic mother, a best friend whose parents were an immortal and a former alien abductee, and a father who'd witnessed that abduction, had conditioned me early on to be open to anything. And being the offspring of two FBI veterans probably explained the rest--I even spent several years as an investigative journalist.

That being said, I don't think Mom Mulder would've been surprised at all that I left Terry behind and put that bloodhound instinct to work on her companion. Every Reyesian instinct I had was screaming that he was trustworthy, but I couldn't get past that stumbling block of a name. John Doggett's son Luke was dead. That meant that whoever "Luke Doggett" was, he was lying about that. So, instincts be damned, I didn't trust him.

Not that there was much I could do in the middle of the Smithsonian, but I could at least try to get a look at the back of his neck.

I found them near the most remarkable part of Terry's masterpiece, a wall devoted entirely to the history of the X-Files. He'd justified it both with Dad's interest in the department and with the striking and largely unknown fact that J. Edgar himself had opened the very first "X-File." But it was a concise, pointed summary of how an FBI secretary's filing solution for bizarre unsolved cases had become the Bureau's most cutting-edge and most short-lived division.

They were standing together, their hands still entwined where they both rested on Dana's right shoulder. Damn. No wonder my husband had disappeared at the beginning of the tour--it must be agony for him to see them like that, so soon after his father's death and while we still had so many doubts about this familiar stranger.

At least whatever they were discussing had them completely absorbed, so neither noticed me trying to approach them with equal parts stealth and nonchalance. It wouldn't do, after all, for anyone to wonder why Director Skinner's only daughter was spying on her sister-in-law.

I found them studying yet another picture of Dad, this one a mug shot taken during the case where he'd been suspected of murdering a prostitute in a drunken rage after granting a divorce to his first wife, Sharon. A case which had turned out to be an X-File, hence its inclusion on this wall.

What I didn't understand was what that picture--or Dad at all--had to do with what I was hearing of their conversation.

"I misjudged him pretty badly when we met," Luke Doggett said in an almost confessional tone. I wondered who he was talking about? William?

Mom Mulder's soft chuckle answered him. "You mean like I did with you?"

When they met? When they met, he was trying to flee Dad Mulder's funeral, and she'd coaxed him back with a hand that had rarely left his in all the time they spent together, if William wasn't exaggerating. How had she misjudged him? When had she had a chance to misjudge him?

He laughed uneasily. "Nah, there was no misjudgment involved there. I _was_ being an ass--an ass with a purpose, but an ass nonetheless." He paused, watching her silently for a moment, then started again. "It's just...well, I guess the guy I met, with his wild tale about watchin' a flying saucer zip down and take off again with your partner..."

She laughed again, and my knees calmly suggested to me that they'd like to buckle now, please. With effort, I managed to deny permission. Okay, I'd wondered what Dad could possibly have to do with their conversation. Be careful what you wish for, Ruthie.

Dear God, could that be the secret? Was my wild guess so close to the truth and yet so utterly wrong?

"You more than made up for it, though," Dana assured him. "For both of us. Even though I don't know how or when you found the time--"

'Luke' Doggett sounded embarrassed. "I guess I got used to havin' a side project."

His arm curled familiarly across those slender shoulders, clasping her to the side of his old-fashioned black tuxedo jacket. I almost expected him to lift her up and tuck her safely into his breast pocket like a delicate silk handkerchief.

"Side project," Dana snorted. "If finding Mulder and taking down Kersh were side projects for you, I'd love to see what you consider dedication."

Even from my hiding place, I could see the night come into his eyes. For a brief moment his face seemed to become the age John Doggett was supposed to be: over eighty. His voice dropped into a well of grief. "I almost didn't even eat or breathe when we were lookin' for Luke."

Sympathy twisted Mom Mulder's face. "I know, John. I'm sorry."

John. So it was true. Impossibly true. My Uncle John, large as life and not a day older than I remembered him. Just like her.

Their eyes connected like two magnets, drawing them closer together without moving. No wonder, I found myself thinking with a soft smile of realization. No wonder they couldn't stay apart. They'd both found a constant in a sea of endless change.


	4. John

It was wrong, I knew that. There we were, talkin' about Luke and Skinner and Mulder and I couldn't let go of her.

I should've. If there's one thing my father taught me, it was how to show proper respect for a lady. And comfort was one thing with a woman who'd just been widowed only weeks ago, but this possessive, almost obsessive clinging together had to be unhealthy. If we were still like this in a century or two, I was gonna check myself into a goddamned psychiatric hospital.

A century or two. I'd accepted that idea a long time ago, but I'd never expected to have somebody to share it with. Especially not this somebody.

God, Luke, I wish you'd lived to meet her. Hell, I just wish you'd lived. But you would've loved Dana. And I bet you would've taken Will under your wing just like you did with all the smaller kids that your classmates liked to pick on. Your mom used to say you were even more of a protector than me, and maybe she was right. No one under your protection ever got killed.

For a while we just stood there, muted like an unwelcome commercial break on television. Then she muttered something about wondering what the exhibit had on Freeh and all the heat he'd taken, and we walked away again from the assignment that had changed both our lives forever. Literally.

We bumped into Ruth about halfway there, and Dana stopped her for a second to ask where her son had gone. Turned out he'd done a pretty good impression of Mulder Senior and had ditched the whole group, even his wife.

Dana sighed. "I swear, sometimes William is a little too much like his father."

Her daughter-in-law just smiled, though her eyes were a bit more preoccupied than her expression or voice let on.

"He'll turn up if he knows what's good for him," I remarked, amused. Mulder always had. Even after the ultimate ditch that had brought Dana and I together the first time--his abduction and then his 'death'--he'd always come back. Who knew? Maybe in a couple more months he'd pull it off again and I'd find myself digging up another grave.

Though, God, I hoped not. A woman should only have to bury the man she loved once. Certainly not three times.

Ruth's eyes turned to me, and there was something in her smile that I recognized. It was that same knowing look I'd seen on Monica's face a million times. Though why exactly her daughter was turning it on me now was a mystery.

"Yeah, Denslow'll turn up," she agreed. "And if he doesn't, I'll just have to take a hint from Mom Mulder and chase him all the way to the Arctic Circle."

"I think you've got it backwards who did the chasing," Dana pointed out.

Ruth shook her head. "I was talking about the time with the submarine, but it doesn't matter. The point is, he can run but he can't hide." She grinned, reminding me of Monica all over again. Then she really looked at me again, and I got the same weird feeling. Ruth Skinner--no, Mulder: geez, was anyone I knew not related to Mulder anymore?--was reading me just like her mom used to do. Shit.

"Detective Doggett, is it?" she asked.

"Call me Luke."

"Okay, Luke. Do you mind if I ask you something rather personal?"

Dana's eyes came looking for mine then, asking if I was okay with that. I wasn't. I was scared shitless, like I hadn't been since that Miles kid came at me like something out of a big-budget sci-fi action flick. But I wasn't gonna let that stop me, so, I nodded.

Surgically removing her hand from mine, she murmured an offer to track down Will and slipped away. As always, it hurt like ripping out a lung and made it just as hard to breathe. I think only the knowledge that it was physically impossible for her to get fatally wounded kept me from hyperventilating.

"Okay, Ruth, whaddya wanna know?" I asked once my nerves had steadied a bit. They were still tingling like a cut electrical wire but my voice didn't shake.

Her voice was quiet. I wasn't sure if she was just subdued or if she didn't want to be overheard. "I noticed it didn't seem to bother you much when Katherine said Will is too much like 'his father'..."

Okay, I was missing something here. But Ruth was apparently in a mood to be cryptic, like her mom or her father-in-law.

"...even though according to all official records, Will and Katherine have the same father."

Damn. She was right, I hadn't even noticed that.

"Look, if you're thinkin' I'm gonna get the idea and start spreading it around that Dana had an affair--"

"No." Ruth shook her head. She looked at me dead-on, just like Monica used to do just before she dropped a bombshell on me. Like "we found him" or "this case has something to do with Luke's murder."

"I just wanted to thank you."

Okay, that caught me by surprise. "Thank me for what?"

"For Dad. For his career, his reputation, his life. *My* life."

Shit.

"I know you're not Luke Doggett. Luke died almost fifty years ago."

What the hell do you say to an announcement like that?

 _Same thing you wouldsay to Monica if it was her,_ the logical part of my mind pointed out.

"Yeah," I admitted, my gut tightening like a clamp in reaction to the memory. "He did." I laughed uneasily. "I shoulda known one of you would put it together. You got your mom's tenacity."

Ruth colored. “Well, if you want to get technical, I didn’t figure it out. I did a little good old-fashioned eavesdropping when you and Mom Mulder were talking just now.”

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Hear anything interesting?"

"Oh, enough to know why you make my husband nervous," was the breezy reply.

Aw, hell...

"Ruth, I--"

She held up a hand to silence me, wearing a toned-down version of her mom's grin. "It's okay. Trust me, under the circumstances I understand completely. But..."

Her eyes met mine fearlessly, and I realized just how much I'd missed by not being there to watch Monica and Skinner's kids grow up. "...he has a right to know."

"Yeah," I agreed to what I'd known all along. "He does."

The grin broadened and a familiar sparkle came into her eyes. "Great. Now if I can just find him..."

"You will. At least in my experience, Mulders may get lost a lot, but they always find their way home."

She chuckled, sounding a little surprised.

"Just one question--" I asked. This had been bugging me since Dana had introduced us.

"Yeah?"

"Why 'Denslow'?"

Ruth laughed. "His initials--William Walter, WW. WW Denslow was the illustrator of The Wizard of Oz..."


End file.
